The Game of the Gods
by Secret Agent Smut Girl
Summary: Svava of the Valkyries must take on the Underground


Yvieta was dying in the mud, though all she could feel was the rain against   
her face. Staring up at the dark clouds, the didn't move, it was honorable to   
die in a battle won. All around her the corpses of those she had killed lay,   
damned by her sword and their weakness. They had try to flee, flee from a   
holy battle.   
  
Her life's blood was mixing with the rainwater and mud, her heart barely   
pulsing the liquid through the wound in her breast. She didn't have the   
strength to pull the blade from the wound. Closing her eyes she let out a   
groan as every nerve in her body shot pain, from her filthy sand brown hair   
to the tips of her frozen toes.   
  
Soon Niflheim would be beyond her sight, soon she would stand amongst heroes   
in Valhalla. Odin favored her, for he alone she had fought. For him she had   
won. "Winning has a price Yvieta."   
  
She could barely focus her eyes on the youth who was now beside her, the   
elfin boy with dry clothes untouched by the rain. "You wasted your life."   
  
"I will go... to Valhalla." The words were forced through bloodless lips, her   
amber eyes fluttering closed. She couldn't keep them open.   
  
"You will see the underworld." He hissed, a glare filled with eternal hate   
raising to the golden equine that ran from the skies. Smirking he looked down   
at the dying girl, and then at the carnage that littered the sodden grass.   
  
"Valkyrie..." The dying whispered, her grasp on life slipping.   
  
"You will not have her, Warrior Maiden." The youths smirk turned into a grin   
as the golden goddess knelt beside the corpse, her blue eyes flashing. "The   
Aesir will never win against the Vanir. The soul is no longer yours, Warrior   
Maiden."   
  
"Trickster, this is no game. You are Aesir." The Valkyrie whispered.   
  
"I am an outcast, you all trust me not. Feel my wrath. You will have your   
chance to own the day, though. Thirteen hours..." He laughed bitterly as he   
looked up at the raining clouds. "Thirteen hours." And he disappeared.   
  
"Loki!" The goddess wailed as the terrain around her changed. The cold rain   
soaked earth gave way to rocky terrain and the gray sky became overcast with   
a rust colored haze. The warriors bodies no longer lay at her feet, she was   
no longer in the cold land of Niflheim. She was in the Underground.   
  
"Hel! Show your face to Sváva of the Valkyries. That soul has been chosen by   
Odin to battle in Valhalla." Turning quickly, the goddess found herself   
staring into equally cold, blue eyes. "Name yourself to me. You are not the   
goddess Hel."   
  
"I am Jareth, son of cursed Hel of the underworld and of Loki of the Aesir.   
Lord and master of the Underground, King of all you see." In the ruddy glow   
of the eternal setting sun, the Goblin King looked at the woman from boot to   
scarlet corset, from silver gauntlet to winged helm.   
  
"You will have 13 hours to claim your mortal soul for Odin. If you fail,   
Warrior Maiden, the woman will join the doomed here and you will join the   
fallen." Smirking, pointed out over the rocky terrain to a wall. "Travel my   
labyrinth, but heed me well. Thirteen hours is all you have, before your   
golden light begins to dim and the Vanir win the day."   
  
Pulling her silver spear from her back, the goddess narrowed her eyes. "Spawn   
of Hel, will never triumph against Odins chosen."   
  
Light glinting off her helm, she ran down the rocky hill without hesitation,   
her pale blonde hair whipping in the wind. Jareth laughed softly. "This is no   
game, Warrior Maiden. Winner takes all."   
  
* * *   
  
Sváva hand met the wall, her eyes narrowed and calculating. "No wall will   
stop a Valkyrie from retrieving Odins Einhjier."   
  
"Talkin' to yourself," a dwarf mumbled as he let his amusement spread across   
his face. "Not so high and might now are ya."   
  
Chortling, the gnarled dwarf stood there, waiting for the woman to demand an   
answer to the question he was always asked. Instead the raven on her shoulder   
took flight, landing at the top of the wall. Looking out over the labyrinth   
it cawed twice, it's eyes taking in all the views.   
  
"Well, done," Sváva whispered to her raven, before hooking her hands around   
the stones in the wall, her feet finding crevices to use as leverage. With   
agility she cleared the wall, and then knelt at the top. "The Lord Jareth has   
underestimated me."   
  
Jumping down on the other side, Sváva walked through a gap in the wall and   
began the miles of twists and turns. Her raven lead her through the most   
logical path, the dimensions of the rooms altering and changing behind her.   
Then before her the path met a dead end.   
  
"I see you're trapped, warrior," Jareth purred from behind her. She turned,   
spear in hand, her face impassive to his smirk.   
  
"You are only as trapped as your mind is narrow, son of Hel." Sváva bit out.   
  
"And you only have as many options as I give you, icy maiden."   
  
"Taunt me no more. Time is fleeting."   
  
A smile split Jareths pale face. "Ah yes. You are no victim I see. All the   
better when I win."   
  
"Pride is no virtue."   
  
"Ahh, but purity is. But that is fleeting, you are only another woman." He   
leered at her as he disappeared from sight, his voice whispering on the   
breeze. "Choose your path or one shall be chosen for you. Shall you be the   
victor or a slave?"   
  
"Curse your ancestors, son of Hel. You are truly the spawn of the worst. I   
choose water."   
  
Sváva stepped into the cold water, her body shimmering with the liquid. Her   
armor liquefied and puddle around her feet, encasing her from head to toe...   
from head to wing to tail. The silver swan watched the raven fly over head   
and followed with ease. Around her the water swelled in size, it's placidity   
deceiving. For every stride she took, the further she became from shore. She   
was trapped, as she closed her eyes on the world.   
  
* * *   
  
In the center of the labyrinth, Jareth sat on his thrown watching the   
tormented souls around him. As if unaware of the horror of the sights, he was   
smiling as a small brown creature finished polished his armor.   
  
Pulling a crystal mirror from the arm of the throne, he looked at the scene   
it showed him. Sváva lay upon a bed of virginal white sheets, the sun of   
Valhalla warm across her naked calves. She slept softly, drugged on his   
spell, dreaming as she would in her own bed in Odins palace. The hammers of   
Thor wouldn't wake her from the trance, she would not be able to resist.   
  
"Her arrogance leads her straight to me. Those waters will bind her to me in   
a vision that will be her downfall." Pushing his fingertips through the   
mirror, he laughed as he entered her dream. "Valkyrie no more..."   
  
The brown breeches he wore hugged his hips more as he knelt on the bed, the   
linen shirt falling open as he leaned over her. Still she slept as he watched   
her, lips parted in a half sight as her dreams enfolded her. Her hair was   
free over the pillow, it spilled like molten gold across the snowy white of   
the tick. Golden lashes fringed closed eyes, and her skin was as white as a   
swans feathers. Inviting in her purity, she stirred as Jareth ran his finger   
down her neck.   
  
"So soft..." he murmured, his hand brushing the top of her breast as he   
pushed the sheet aside. Beneath it she was nude, her warriors body taunt and   
unblemished. He could almost see the web of veins that held her immortal   
blood across her ribs, pressing his hand against them he could feel the   
muscle honed by a hundred battles. "You've never had to fight as a mortal   
have you my dove..."   
  
She sighed in her sleep, as his hand cupped her hip, his lips taking hers. He   
kisses her softly, before taking off his linen shirt. Lifting her to him, he   
could feel the warmth of her breasts on his chest, and the tickle of her   
breath on his tongue. "You'll be mine forever, the queen of my underground. A   
goddess for this outcast of a demigod."   
  
His hand strayed to her flat stomach, and downward to the juncture of her   
thighs. He groaned as he shed his breeches, taking her mouth more savagely.   
"Mine."   
  
Eyes fluttering open, Svávas wretched her hips, pinning him to the bed.   
"Never!"   
  
"You think not, Warrior Maiden? This illusion is mine and will succumb only   
when I have taken you." His eyes turned steely gray as she leapt from the   
bed, as proud in her nudity as in her armor. She glared at him, her breasts   
rising and falling with each breath, only her yards of hair shielding   
anything from him.   
  
"My body is a temple to Odin, spawn. Never will I be breached by such as you.   
No man may TOUCH ME!" Casting a look around the room, she grabbed hold of an   
eating dagger and pointed it at him.   
  
Jareth laughed as he stood and pulled on his breeches. "You cannot harm me in   
my own illusion."   
  
"A thousand deaths to you and your illusion." Raising the dagger, it glinted   
in the sun as it made it's decent down into her breast bone.   
  
Jareth sighed as the illusion around him faded, and her found himself back on   
his throne with Sváva before him again in her armor. "The Einhjier."   
  
"Is yours," Jareth said as the raven on her shoulder leaned forward and   
cawed. Looking once more at it's mistress, it flew to bring the soul to Odin.   
  
"But you have not won the day, you frigid bitch. Do you see these souls   
around me? The passed over, the ones not favored by Frejya and Odin? They   
have more power than you Aesir could imagine. One day they will rise up."   
  
"You are a fool, Jareth." She whispered, her eyes looking toward the ever   
blackening sky. "Valhalla will never fall to the likes of you. My Lord Odin   
forbids it."   
  
"My life is my power." Leaning forward she grasped his face in her hands and   
took his lips with her own. Around them the wind sprung up, wrenching the   
helm from the Valkyries head, her hair whipping in the wind. "I curse you,   
Jareth son of Hel, spawn of Loki the traitor. I curse you to be the lord of   
nothing, the souls you receive to become wraiths. You will receive warriors   
no more, you will be the king of only fools and outcasts."   
  
Jareths eyes widened in horror as the tormented souls vanished into the air,   
and the Warrior Maidens grasp on him tightened. "For you there will be no   
salvation, only torment. For your insolence you will suffer and be the joke   
of the gods. From my death until Ragnork, Jareth. You will know my curse. The   
Aesir will revel in your punishment."   
  
As her words ended, the world around him shattered. Falling to his knees he   
landed on a cold stone floor surrounded by nothing. "Father," he moaned as he   
looked around the mockery of a castle. "Father!"   
  
The only answer he got was the caw of a raven, and the clatter of a winged   
helm that fell to the floor before him. Through tear filled eyes he watched   
as the bird and the helmet merged, blinding him through his tears. As the   
light engulfed him, he moaned as a molten fire burned through his chest. An   
amulet lay there where the fire had been, it's features altering and twisting   
convulsively.   
  
"Thank you father," he whispered as his tears hit the stone, as they became   
feathers. Again there was silence as a lone owl took flight to survey it's   
twisted empire.   
  
* * *   
  
Standing alone in the chill of a Niflheim morning, Lokis youthful smile had   
disappeared. "For you my son. For you I will not let you be forgotten. They   
will all pay, someday there will be no warriors and the Aesir will be no   
more. When we are all gone you will remain. You will have your revenge."   
  
With a smile he vanished from the carnage of the battlefield, only to appear   
as a small boy with knowing eyes in a crowded square full of warriors and   
merchants going about the morning business. Catching sight of another boy of   
about ten summers, he ran to him. "Thorn, did I tell you what I learned at   
Bloodrinkers Keep? I heard the best story of warriors, the gods and   
battle...."   
  
"Really?" The boy said, as he wiped his dirty hands on his cross-gartered   
leg. "Does it have to do with Odins holy wars?"   
  
"No, better than that. A curse... I heard a way you can wish away little   
sisters!"   
  
The boys eyes lit up. "Is it very hard to wish them away? Freilda always   
hides my dagger, how will I ever become a warrior in Valhalla with her in my   
way?"   
  
"You won't..." Loki smirked. "Listen all you have to say is.... 'I wish the   
goblins would come and take her away................"   
  
***


End file.
